


Detention

by Colourcubify



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Bottom Harry, But the actual sex is consentual, Classroom Sex, Desk Sex, Detention, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Draco is a prat, Draco is probably obsessed, Elaborate Plans, First Time, Fluffy Ending, Gryffindor Bashing, Hogwarts Fifth Year, In which Draco tries really hard to get laid, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Top Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourcubify/pseuds/Colourcubify
Summary: Draco is sick of waiting for Potter to notice how great he is. He's going to have to get creative to make sure the prat figures it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a Drarry story for a long long time but never had any good ideas, so here's something that's not a good idea. Enjoy!

“Seven pm sharp, sixth floor west corridor, last door on the left.” Draco drawled, his sharp eyes taking in every fidget Potter made. The boy's emerald eyes blazed in irritation from beneath his mop of hair. Draco glanced at it for a moment, wondering if Potter had ever heard of a hairbrush before, then flicked his gaze back to the other's. A saccharine smile fluttered on his lips. “Don't be late, Potter.”

Turning on his heel, he swept away, robes billowing behind him in his best impression of Professor Snape. Draco brought his hands together, stretching them forward to crack his knuckles with loud, satisfying _pops_. He had some preparing to do.

***

The fact that he had volunteered to overtake Potter's detention had surprised no one, saving perhaps Potter himself. Professor Umbridge had seemed almost genuinely delighted that she need not deal with the Boy-Who-Lived for yet _another_ detention. It seemed her disciplinary tactics had not been able to even crack the shell that was Potter's bullheadedness. If anything, he had been acting out more than ever, and that was when the Professor had reached her breaking point.  


Draco had been currying her favour for months now, since the first of Potter's punishments, getting into her good graces. He knew that if anyone would let him step in involving the brunet, it would be the newest, and harshest, addition to the Hogwarts staff. The fact that she knew his father only helped to ease the way into her Inquisitorial Squad and her trust. Seeing as he was already loathed by most, if not all, the students, it didn't matter to Draco what absurd rules she set him to enforcing. It was all for the end goal.  


With Potter's last outburst, the Professor had been at a loss of what to assign his detention to. Draco admitted, he may have had a hand in swaying the toad-like woman from using her vile quills, on Potter at least. He did not like that the boy held a permanent mark from something so useless. As if Potter would ever listen to what he was told under those circumstances. No, Draco had something far more effective in mind.  


Whistling to himself, Draco put the finishing touches on the room that would be theirs for the next two weeks. It was of the utmost importance that everything be correct, because he would not have another chance at this. It was now, or never.

***

The door creaked open at 7:17. Draco hadn't expected him to be on time, but a small part of him had hoped. Potter's scruffy head peeked into the classroom warily, as if expecting a horde of dementors to descend upon him. The blond scoffed from his position: seated with his feet upon a desk.  


“Nothing's going to leap out at you, Potter,” he said, voice dripping with disdain, “I'm not _that_ obvious.”  


Potter shot him an annoyed glance before coming fully into the room. His eyes flicked around, no doubt searching for booby traps, before landing on Draco's relaxed pose.  


“Close the door, Scarhead,” Draco said firmly. The Boy-Who-Lived just stared blankly at him. “Come now, Potter,” he cajoled, swinging his feet off the desk and smoothly standing, “Surely you can obey a _simple_ command. Or can your tiny brain not process my beautiful self being so close to you when we're alone?” Potter flushed at that, his entire face burning up red almost instantly. Draco was impressed. He had not thought of Potter as one to get embarrassed so easily. The boy turned, quick as a wink, to close the door after that. Draco smiled as he heard the quiet _hissss_ of the trap going off. Potter, mortified as he was, seemed not to notice. 'Oh well,' Draco thought, smile widening, 'All the better for me,'.  


The blond watched as Potter turned back around, the brunet's face morphing slowly from flustered and angry to shy smiling. So the mist was working.  


Draco had spent the good portion of the last weeks creating the potions for this, and the rest of the time making sure Umbridge would let him have the time to use them. He had combined a Calming Draught with the Elixir to Induce Euphoria in very precise amounts. He wanted Potter to be relaxed and willing, not drugged into a stupor. Draco had then devised a trigger activated dispersal system so that when the door latched shut, the potions would mist onto whomever was in the doorway. The blond himself was careful to stand at a predetermined distance, as to not breath in the potions. He needed to be fully in control of himself for the next half hour, lest anything unforeseen happen.  


“Potter,” Draco started. The aforementioned boy's eyes snapped to him. Draco gave him his most winning smile. “Harry,” he tried. The flush in the brunet's cheeks deepened, and Draco's smile turned more wolf-like. He sat back down in the chair he had been in and crooked a finger at Potter. “Come here, would you?” Potter glanced around nervously, obviously still expecting a trap, yet oblivious of the one he had already tripped. Finally, the boy made his way slowly over to Draco.  


“I hear you've been making quite the nuisance of yourself,” he began conversationally, examining his nails, “Is that true?”  


“Fuck you, Malfoy,” came the reply, though with much less venom than usual. Draco tutted.  


“Language, Harry, please,” he scolded lightly, eyes cutting up to the brunet. He leaned forward, elbows touching his knees, and clasped his hands. For his part, Potter looked taken aback at the soft tone he was using, if not the words. “You also arrived late today, when I _specifically_ asked you to be on time.”  


Potter frowned at this. “You didn't exactly _ask_ me, Malfoy,” he pointed out, voice dry. “And I do have a life to live.”  


Draco waved this comment away as if it were a fly. “Neither of those things matter to me," he told the boy, shaking his head to affirm his words, "What matters is your tardiness, and the fact that I can no longer go easy on you this first session. I will spend these next few weeks disciplining you, Harry, and when I am done, you will not tell your friends of my methods, of what goes on in this classroom, or any of what I say or do involving you. Understand?”  


The brunet looked taken aback at the prompt list, and huffed a laugh. “Malfoy, I don't know what you think this is, but you can't make me do any of that,” Potter said. Draco stared up at the other boy through his lashes, eyes dark, mouth cut into a smirk. Reaching out swiftly, he grabbed Potter's scarred hand and brought it near his face, staring at the ugly writing. He heard the brunet gasp as their skin connected, but kept his eyes fixed on the hand. _I must not tell lies_. Such a crude punishment.  


“Did you tell anyone how you got this?” Draco asked softly, looking back to Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head tentatively, obviously not sure where the blond was going with his question.  


“Hermione kind of figured it out, but I never said what happened,” he admitted, avoiding the intensity of Draco's gaze. Draco nodded, idly thumbing over the scar, having assumed that the case. The muggleborn witch had an almost uncanny way of sorting things out.  


“Well rest assured, Harry, she will not be able to figure this one out. _Incarcerous!_ ” Draco whipped out his wand with his free hand to cast the binding spell, catching Potter off guard. Ropes flew out of the tip of the wand, wrapping themselves securely around his hands and feet, rendering him immobile. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” Draco murmured, the spell lifting the wrangled Gryffindor from the ground. After placing his wand back in his pocket, the blond tugged lightly on the hand he still held, making Potter float towards him.  


“Malfoywhatthebloodyhellareyoudoing!” Potter yelped, words stringing together in his panic. Draco thanked his foresight for placing silencing wards around the room, just in case something like this happened. He supposed he _had_ gone easy on the calming part of the potion, and Potter _was_ an anxiety ridden twat at the best of times. He could only imagine the racket had he _not_ drugged him.  


Draco floated the Boy-Who-Lived across the rest of the gap between them, then gently settled him over his lap. The warmth of the other boy over his knee set Draco's heart racing, and he fought to calm himself. Potter had since stilled, whether in confusion or fear, Draco couldn't say. Almost reverently, the blond moved his hand to place it on Potter's head, weaving his fingers into the birds nest that resided there. It was surprisingly soft, almost like an animal's fur. Draco carded his hand through the other boy's hair a few times, soothingly, before smacking the other hand on his bottom. Potter gasped in surprise, spinning his head around to face the Slytherin. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. It was almost as if Draco had silenced the boy himself. Draco took in the dilation of his pupils and his mouth hanging slightly open. If Draco could have taken a picture of this moment, he would have.  


The blond brought down his hand again, the resounding _smack_ echoing around the classroom. He kept his eye contact with Potter while doing so, quite enjoying the expressions on his face, as well as the low groan that came from his throat.  


“This is your punishment Harry,” Draco said quietly, stroking through the brunet's hair, “Every other night for the next two weeks you will spend with me--” _Smack._ “--being _disciplined_. You will not tell anyone. Even if you did they would not believe you,” _Smack._ “Each night we will do fifteen spanks. If you behave, I may give you a little reprieve. If not, the number increases,”  


By the fourth spank, a flush had filled Potter's cheeks, and his breathing was becoming harsher. Draco was reveling in the little noises the boy made with each hit, loving the way they became throatier as time went on.  


“Because of your tardiness today, I have raised it to twenty,” the blond informed him. A whimper came from Potter. Draco tutted, smoothing his fingers down the brunet's jaw. “Maybe you should be on time next session, Harry.”  


Draco delivered three firm spanks in succession, drawing almost a sob from the boy below him. He hushed the Boy-Who-Lived gently and continued.  


The next four spanks came with nary a murmur from either of the two; Draco, being too busy focusing on the task at hand, and Potter, being too busy focusing on his burning arse.  


The twelfth spank dragged a high keening noise from Potter, and Draco felt something nudge his leg. The thirteenth a moan, and more urgent pressing on his thigh. Draco almost couldn't believe it. Potter was getting off on this. A wicked grin lit his face and he couldn't resist running his hand down the crack of Potter's arse with the fourteenth spank.  


The next two spanks he did in a similar way, both trailing farther down as he slid his hand away, nearly touching where Potter clearly wanted him to. But no, this was a punishment. He could be generous later. The seventeenth spank coincided with Draco fisting his hand in Potter's hair, causing a startled cry to leave the boy. The scent of arousal filled the air, and Draco no longer bothered to control his own body. His hardness pressed obviously into Potter's stomach, distracting him every time the boy writhed.  


Eighteen was gentle, nineteen was firm. Finally, the twentieth hit left Potter panting and grinding into Draco's leg.  


“That's twenty,” Draco said, the raspiness of his voice surprising him. His hand stayed resting on Potter's arse, gently tracing circles on the abused flesh. Draco grabbed his wand, removed the bindings, and cast a healing spell to calm any swelling, leaving most of the soreness as a reminder. He helped the brunet to his feet, trailing his arms up his sides to his face. Tear tracks marked the skin, and Draco thumbed them away, a slight frown on his face. “Better?” he asked. Potter nodded shakily, still in shock from the spanking. Draco scoffed, ruffling the other boy's hair. “I thought Gryffindor's were supposed to be brave,” he noted, drawing a stunned laugh from Potter.  


Noticing for the first time how close he was still standing to the brunet, Draco hastily took a step back, adjusting his robes over his obvious bulge. He cleared his throat, looking away from Potter. “I'll see you two days from now at the same time,” he told him, studiously staring at the wall. He could hear the other boy hesitate, as if to say something, before his footsteps receded quickly, and the door slammed closed.

***

Draco approached the classroom the day after next at 6:55 and was genuinely surprised to see Potter leaning on the wall outside the room. At the sound of his approach, Potter turned his head towards him, face already flushing in...what? Embarrassment? Anticipation? Draco couldn't tell for sure. But what he did know was that Potter was here, and was here alone.  


Over the past two days, the brunet had done his best to avoid Draco at all cost, something that was not unheard of, but had not happened recently. Draco had earned at least three severe looks from Granger when Potter turned around in the hallway to pointedly go a different way rather than be near the Slytherin. The Weasel had called him all sorts of unpleasant names under his breath in potions class when Potter had dropped all his ingredients at the sound of Draco's voice.  


So all in all, he had honestly only half expected Potter to show up.  


“You're early,” the Malfoy heir noted, breezing past the other boy to unlock the door. He heard Potter intake a sharp breath as he passed, causing Draco to smirk in satisfaction. If he had Potter like this after just one session, he was excited to know how he would be by the end of the detentions.  


After entering the room, Draco headed towards the chair he had sat in the previous day. As Potter had arrived early today, the blond decided he had no need for a second dose of the potion. A lazy flick of his wand, out of the view of Potter of course, disarmed the dispersal. Besides, due to his testing, he figured it was still at least partially in Potter's system. It had affected him in trial for about four days. The Slytherin settled himself in the chair, relaxing his pose, and met the other boy's gaze.  


“Well, Harry,” he started, mouth quirking up in one corner, “You know the drill.”  


Draco watched as the brunet swallowed nervously, eyes darting from his face to his hands to his lap and back to his face. His lips curled mockingly as he leaned back more lazily in the chair.  


“Do I need to remind you of the other day?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. A delightful scowl crossed Potter's face as he whirled to close the door, though it changed into a nervous grimace by the time he was facing the blond again. Draco attempted a mollifying smile to coax the boy closer.  


“I do have to congratulate you on your timing today, Harry. I was hoping you would understand that wasting my time wastes _both_ our time. I'm very proud of you.” Potter's cheeks glowed, but whether indicating pleasure or embarrassment, Draco couldn't tell. “For today, fifteen spanks will suffice, and you will get a reward when we are finished. How does that sound?”  


Potter gulped again, now within arms reach, and Draco devoured the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing. Oh, how he wanted to sink his teeth into that olive skin.  


“Good--” Potter said, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat, carefully avoiding looking at Draco, and tried again. “Good. Yeah. That sounds...yes.” At the last word, Potter finally looked at him. The blond resisted the urge to grin wolfishly up at the boy, but quite poorly, he gathered, based on Potter's widening eyes.  


“Why don't you take your robe off? You'll be more comfortable,” Draco suggested casually.  


“I'm not sure I'd use the word _'comfortable'_ to describe how I'm feeling with any of this, Malfoy,” the brunet replied, despite removing his robe and setting it on the table next to them.  


“Then why did you come back?” Draco countered. This stalled the other boy, making him appear like a deer caught in a _lumos_.  


“I...” he tried, searching for words, “I...can't say,”  


“Can't, or won't?” he challenged.  


“Won't,” Potter said firmly, finally meeting his eye. Draco smiled. This was the Potter he knew.  


“That can be for later then,” Draco conceded, spreading his hands placatingly, “But enough talk. Come here, Harry.” The words were said with force, leaving no room for argument. Potter stepped forward almost without meaning to, standing knee to knee with the blond. “Over my knee, Harry.” Softly, but firmly. Potter bit his lip, but obeyed, settling into a more comfortable position than the night before. Draco stroked his hand down the boy's back, enjoying the small shivers he let out, then fingered the hemline of his trousers. He heard the brunet take a sharp breath.  


“I think we'll try without these tonight, hmm?” he drawled, tugging both trouser and pants down sharply, putting the pert globes on display. Draco greedily eyed the smooth, dark skin. Potter gasped, and Draco could already feel the pressure on the underside of his leg. “Do you like that idea, Potter?” The Gryffindor replied by grinding into his leg. It was Draco's turn to gasp, albeit more softly and more dignified than that of Potter, of course. The first spank came as a reprimand. “This is still a punishment, remember Scarhead?” The second rung out loudly in the empty classroom. “I want you to count them today, understand?” With the third he dipped a finger to brush at the brunet's pucker, drawing a whimper from him as well as a bob of his cock, but no words. Draco tutted, going for the fourth with nary a stray touch. Just the sharp precision expected of a Malfoy. Potter groaned in disappointment.  


“ _Draco_ ,” the boy moaned, causing the aforementioned blond's heart to stutter. Draco licked his lips and delivered the fifth with no comment. Potter almost sobbed at the lack of contact. “ _Fiiiive_ ,” he grit out. Draco stroked the nape of his neck happily.  


“Good boy,”  


Six was rewarded with a squeeze of abused flesh. Seven with a brush under his cheeks. Eight had him trailing his fingers over Potter's bony hips. Each came with a panted out word from the Boy-Who-Lived. Draco smiled, fit to burst at how successful his plan was going. Potter was putty in his hands. He just had to be careful how much teasing he did. Too much, and Potter may be scared off. Yet too little, and he may not be intrigued to come back. It was a fine line Draco had to toe, but if anyone could do it, he knew it was a Malfoy.  


'And besides,' his mind supplied as he went for the next spank, 'He called you _Draco_ ,'.  


The blond almost felt like whistling as he continued his job, so content was he with Potter's sexed up voice calling out the numbers as he went. The heat of Potter's cock on his leg didn't hurt either, nor did the way it rubbed and twitched sensually against his leg with each hit. Draco alternated fingering the brunet's arsehole, to his perineum, to his bollocks, the touches so light that they may have been accidental were it not so precisely orchestrated.  


By the thirteenth, Potter was shuddering across his lap, mouth open, heels of his hands covering his eyes. Draco was almost certain the boy didn't even realize he was doing it. With the fourteenth, Draco's unused hand strayed to Potter's face, tracing his jaw. Potter moaned, turning his head to suck the blond's fingers into his mouth. Draco gasped at the sudden heat surrounding his fingers. Potter looked gorgeous with his lips wrapped around something, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked. Draco couldn't help but press fingers farther in, and mirrored it with the boy's arse, murmuring a wandless lubrication charm as he pushed a digit inside.  


The sound Potter made as he was penetrated nearly made Draco come on the spot. He wished he had set up recorders so he could have something to wank to afterwards. Potter's tongue wrapped around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of his mouth. The finger in the boy's arse wiggled, moving gently in and out, searching for Potter's sweet spot.  


“Do you like that, Harry?” Draco whispered roughly as he fucked Potter in both ends with his hands, “How does it feel to have your enemy make you feel this way? You're just my dirty little slut, now.” The Gryffindor moaned needily, grinding incessantly on Draco's leg. “You like that, huh? Being my bitch. Just how would you explain _this_ to Granger?” Draco accented his words with the addition of a second finger to the brunet's arse, scissoring them and stretching him. “Greedy little hole, isn't it?” he murmured, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion, drawing a distressed whine from Potter. “Oh, was that a good spot?” He repeated the motion, and Potter dropped his head, seemingly unable to hold it up anymore. Draco fisted his now unoccupied hand in the other's hair. He crooked his fingers a third time, feeling Potter's cock twitch violently on his leg, then removed his fingers completely. A groan accompanied the action.  


“No, Harry,” he chided, “I want you to come like this,”  


Draco brought his hand down for the last spank on cue with his words, while the hand in Potter's hair clenched, pulling his head up. The competing pain and pleasure seemed to be enough to drive the brunet over the edge, and he spilled into his pants, shuddering and twitching with a cry. Draco's hand in his hair loosened, stroking the boy's head as he worked through his orgasm. He grabbed his wand and spelled Potter's pants clean before casting the same healing charm as the first night. He pulled the pants and trousers back up to cover the boy's arse, patting it lightly afterwards. Draco helped Potter to his feet, then stepped back to let him arrange himself and re-robe.  


“Friday, same time,” Draco said, standing a formal distance away, his hands clasped behind his back. Potter looked at him, seeming to not have noticed him backing away, and his eyes darted to Draco's still evident erection.  


“Look, Malfoy,” he started, taking a step towards him. Draco held out a hand to stop him, fingers flush against his chest. “Let me at least help you out...” He gestured lamely towards the blond's obvious hardness. Draco smiled stiffly.  


“No need, Potter,” the Malfoy said crisply, “I'll see you Friday.”  


The Gryffindor looked for a second as if he were about to argue, then closed his mouth, scowling. Turning on his heel, he left the room without another word. If Draco didn't know better, he'd think it was for more than Potter's Gryffindorish sense of honour that he offered to help. As it was, it was better this way. He would only go so far with the idiot when he was drugged, and Draco didn't want the first time Potter touched _him_ to be not of his own free will. Groaning at his own misguided sense of chivalry, Draco punched the desk. This was going to be a long two days.

***

As Draco turned the corner on Friday, he noticed something odd. The door to the classroom was already open, albeit just a smidge. He frowned, looking down the hall to see if anyone else was nearby, then approached the room quietly. Creaking the door open, Draco peered inside. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. His frown deepened as he slid into the classroom cautiously. Everything was placed as it should be, but Draco could feel that something was amiss. Removing his robe, he paced around the room, investigating each nook and cranny that could hide something. The blond was opening a broom closet when the classroom door slamming made him spin around, wand at the ready. Pale eyes darted around the room, a slight panic beginning to encroach upon him. Had Potter finally told someone? Was this when some Gryffindor thugs burst out to threaten him? Draco fell into a dueling stance.  


A chair moved to his left, and the Slytherin cast a quick _Stupify_ in the direction, only succeeding in knocking the chair to the ground. Draco cursed, backing up to the wall. He didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't about to let himself be caught off guard.  


The silence after stretched on for a long minute. Draco was strung taught, anticipation making him jumpy. The blond held his breath, ears straining for any movement. At last, a subtle shuffling caught his ear. 'On your right,' he told himself. Pushing away from the wall, Draco sent a second _Stupify_ , then a third. His teeth grit in frustration. Why wasn't he hitting anyone?  


“Come out and fight me like a man!” he growled, face hot. Too late, he heard a swishing sound directly behind him, followed by a precise “ _Incarcerous!_ ”. Ropes wrapped themselves snugly around his torso, binding his hands and forcing him to drop his wand. Draco swore, flailing about in an attempt to loosen the ropes. “And I thought all you Gryfffindors were brave. Fat load of shit _that_ turned out to be. Did Potter send you? I'll have you know I did everything he's telling you and _more_. Go ahead, cur--”  


“Malfoy, don't make me silence you,” came the soft voice from behind him as a wand dug into his back. Draco promptly shut up at the sound of Potter's voice. The boy walked around his immobile body to look him in the face. His eyes were dark and serious as he placed a hand on Draco's chest. “You're going to let me talk for a minute this time.” Potter spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument. Draco scowled, as he figured there was always room for arguing.  


“Potter, I don't see how you should get any say in your punishments. I was the one put in charge, so--” Draco's mouth kept moving, but no sound came out. He gnashed his teeth together in frustration. Potter had just wordlessly silenced him.  


“I warned you,” Potter told him, a small smile quirking at his lips, “Now you're going to listen to me.  


“I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play with me, but if you're just messing around, you need to stop.” The Gryffindor's cheeks began to turn rosy. “If you aren't just messing around, though, it'd be nice if you actually told me, so that I can get some sleep at night.” Draco gazed in wonderment as even his ears tinted pink. “I know you have no reason to actually tell me anything, but I'll remind you that I defeated Voldemort when I was a baby, so you probably don't want to fight me for real.”  


Draco tried his best to keep from smirking at the rambling Potter in front of him. He really was too cute. The blond didn't know what answer Potter wanted to hear, but he steeled himself to tell the truth. When he could speak, that was.  


“Okay, I'm going to unsilence you,” Potter said, firmly meeting Draco's eye again despite the blush covering his cheeks. “And I only want you to answer yes or no to this question, got it?” Draco rolled his eyes, prompting Potter to jab his cheek with his wand. “Got it, Malfoy?” The Slytherin met the other's eye and nodded slowly. Potter let out a heavy breath before looking away from Draco.  


“Doyoulikeme?” came the rushed question, followed by the sensation of having his voice back. Draco licked his lips, thinking about how best to answer the query. Did he like Potter? He thought the boy was a prime idiot who associated too much with muggleborns and blood traitors for his liking. He thought his oft-broken glasses and messy hair made him look like a street urchin. He thought that Potter was more of a Slytherin than he let on at times, despite the utterly Gryffindorish thing he was doing currently. He wished he were on the other side of this war, on the side of this daft Gryffindor, where he didn't have to worry about his father's ideals and the Dark Lord's favour.  


“No,” he answered finally. Potter's shocked wide eyes shot to him, suddenly glassy looking.  


“Oh...oh, well—I mean, I...” Draco watched as the brunet's hands became anxious; one ran though his hair, messing it further, the other clenched over his stomach, knuckles white. Draco frowned.  


“Can I say something else?” he interjected, wanting to stop the self-pity train Potter had set himself on. The other boy nodded morosely.  


“I don't _like_ you, Potter. That is an absurdly common word to use. What a utterly Gryffindorish sentiment,” Draco sneered. Potter's eyes began to water. “I do, however, hold much affection for you in other ways. So if you would kindly stop crying, or unbind me, or both would be preferable...”  


Draco stopped his words as the other boy gazed up at him in surprise. He felt his own face begin to flush at the expression of awe and longing on Potter's.  


“Or you could even stop looking at me like that,” he said quickly, averting his eyes awkwardly, “That would also be an option,”  


“Draco, are you serious?” came the response. The blond's mouth tightened at the sound of his name coming from Potter's lips.  


“A Malfoy is always serious, you dimwit,” he muttered. Draco almost fell as the binding spell was released and a frantic Potter ran into his arms. He opened his mouth to complain only to have his words cut off by Potter's lips.  


Kissing Potter wasn't anything like he expected, yet at the same time was exactly what he wanted. It was sloppy and had too much teeth, but Draco was glad for Potter's lack of experience. 'That means his first times are all mine,' he thought, smirking as he tightened his arms around the other boy. Draco slid a hand under Potter's arse, fondling it quickly before he lifted the brunet from the ground, guiding his legs around his waist. Potter, for his part, already had both arms around his neck, with one hand buried deep in his hair. Draco nipped at his lips, causing him to let out a squeal of surprise.  


“Don't mess up my hair,” The Malfoy heir growled before connecting their mouths again hungrily. He set Potter down on a nearby desk and proceeded to shuck the boy's robe off, then began to unbutton his shirt. His mouth followed the trail of the buttons, nipping and sucking, paying special attention to each of Potter's nipples.  


“D...Draco!” he gasped, hands now covering his mouth to keep his cries in. Draco grabbed Potter's wand from his pocket and bound his hands above his head. Potter let out a gasp in surprise and ground his hips pleadingly into Draco's.  


“Fuck, Potter,” he moaned, halting his attack momentarily to let his mind clear. He moved back a half step and knelt down, opening Potter's trousers as he went. He then yanked both trousers and pants down and off his legs, tossing the offending articles to the side. Draco pulled Potter forward by his hips, setting his thighs over his shoulders. He kissed and bit his way up the boy's leg, teasing the flesh at the junction of his pelvis. Every word from Potter was an incoherent sob as Draco slid his tongue to his pucker, licking a slow circle. He teasingly applied some pressure, and was rewarded with a heady moan from the other boy. Draco pressed his tongue in further, breaching the tense hole. Potter groaned at the intrusion, his feet locking behind the blond's head, urging him further. Draco, needing no other invitation, began thrusting his tongue in and out, stretching the hole to accommodate him later.  


Bringing up a hand, he removed his tongue to murmur a lubrication charm, then pressed two spell-slicked digits into Potter. They entered with little resistance, and Draco easily scissored his fingers. He pressed his lips to the boy's thigh.  


“Been prepping yourself for me, have you Harry?” he said huskily, “That's a good boy.” Draco crooked his fingers, causing Potter to buckle and writhe.  


“Draco, please,” the other boy managed to get out. Draco chuckled lowly.  


“Eager, aren't we?” he teased, standing and quickly kicking off his own lower garments. Taking his slickened hand, he stroked his cock, aligning it with Potter's hole. He pressed in slowly, revelling at the feeling of Potter stretching around him to accommodate his girth. Potter whimpered, clinging to Draco's back. “Shh, you're alright,” he cooed, kissing away the tears on Potter's cheeks. “I'm going to move now, okay?”  


Draco slid out and pushed back in with more force, drawing a startled moan from the boy beneath him. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of hearing that noise. Soon Draco was thrusting full force into Potter, dragging a litany of sounds from him.  


“If only your precious friends could see you now, Potter,” he growled, biting the brunet's earlobe, “The Chosen One so eager for my cock up his arse.” The Gryffindor let out a whine. “But this is a side of you they will never see,” he continued, licking a stripe down his neck, “Because you're mine Harry, understand?” Draco could feel Potter nodding against his chest. He kissed him, tongues clashing for dominance. “Yes or no answer, Harry,” Draco scolded him, biting his lip sharply.  


“ _Yessss_ ,” Potter ground out as the blond increased his pace, fucking him with bruising intensity. “Dra--aaahh!!” the boy cried as he spilled between them, arse tightening around Draco. He swore, clamping his teeth on the other boy's throat, and with a few last thrusts he finished inside Potter, shuddering at the intensity. Draco slackened his jaw to lick at the bruise already forming. It was beautiful.  


Draco collapsed on top of Potter, exhausted, and murmured the counter charm to the binding. Potter laughed in surprise. The brunet wrapped his arms around the blond tightly, pressing kisses into his hair. “Hey Draco,” he began.  


“I'll move in a second, Potter,” Draco informed him, lazily kissing his chest, “Don't ruin the moment,”  


“I was just going to say, prat, that I seem to hold much affection for you, too,”  


Draco lifted his head, meeting Potter's gaze with a steely glint in his eye.  


“This doesn't mean you're out of detention, though, Potter,”  


Potter smiled crookedly. “As long as we can end them all like this, I don't mind,” Draco dropped his head back down, groaning.  


“What have I gotten myself into?” he asked. Potter smirked down at him.  


“You started it,” he said cheerily. Draco only grumbled in response, feeling happier than he had in years as Potter proceeded to thoroughly mess up his hair. Perhaps he didn't mind _this_ Gryffindor so much after all.


End file.
